


Some Jerk on a Guitar

by Cyan (vehicroids)



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Musicians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 15:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16642451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehicroids/pseuds/Cyan
Summary: Butters was at the bar with some friends when an angel on stage caught his eye.(Stutters week day 6: song)





	Some Jerk on a Guitar

By Jimmy's insistence, the group of six went to the bar. It was one of those bars with a microphone, where there was always some douche on a guitar who could barely sing, or some stand-up ‘comedian’ who didn't know what comedic timing was. Jimmy performed here once in a while, so Butters wasn't going to voice his complaints.

They sat on a round table; Tweek, Craig, Token, and Clyde were all there. Butters sipped on his drink, which tasted more like stale piss water than soda. As the designated driver, he couldn't get drunk. Even if he wanted to, the beer was far too expensive. He nursed his drink - it had long gotten warm as he sat there.

Someone started setting up on stage, and Butters frowned. Not some other guy with a guitar - he hoped the guy was at least on key this time. The others paid the musician no mind, and Butters threw himself back into the conversation.

Clyde was lamenting over his on-off girlfriend - off right now, but he swore Bebe would take him back soon - while the others called him stupid. He kind of was. Butters said nothing and listened to them, watching them. They were getting drunk and less comprehensible; maybe he ought to take them home soon.

In the background, Butters heard the twang of an acoustic guitar. He glanced up at the stage: a cute young man was playing, who looked around his age. His hair was feathery and black, his hazel eyes cast down to his guitar before meeting Butters’. He felt his heart stop.

His voice was like an angel had come down just to sing to Butters. He was lost in watching him, entranced by his voice and his guitar and  _ him _ . Butters swallowed hard. Maybe the people playing here weren't all the same type of jerk on a guitar. Everything else faded in the background. All Butters could see was this boy.

“Butters?”

Clyde nudged him, and Butters came back to reality. He looked at his friends with a sheepish smile, his face turning pink.

“Sorry, um, what were we talking about?” he asked.

“Bebe,” Craig snorted, in a way that said  _ as per usual _ .

Butters chuckled. “Oh, no wonder I zoned out.”

The table erupted into laughter, and Clyde pouted. It was easy to poke fun of him. At least no one was mocking Butters for staring at the guitarist. With the conversation shifting back to Clyde, Butters was free to slip back into his little world.

He looked back at the guitarist. He was cute, like an abandoned puppy. Butters just wanted to take him home and love him. His voice was gentle as he sang heartbreak songs - pining for another man, who was already in a relationship from the lyrics. Was it bad to be glad that this meant he would be into men?

Yes. Butters needed to get a hold of himself.

The set was short; only a handful of songs, before the guy was replaced by someone else. Butters needed a reason to talk to him before he left the bar, otherwise he might not come back.

Butters stood up, the chair screeching underneath him. His friends looked up at him, but he paid them no mind. He went over to the guitarist, who raised an eyebrow at Butters. He smiled awkwardly at him. Alright, Butters could flirt with a boy, this was fine.

“Um, hey,” Butters said. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I don't drink.”

“Well, I don't either! I've been drinking soda all night.”

Stan tilted his head, but chuckled. He had a laugh as great as his singing - it wasn't melodic, but there was a certain charm to it. Butters found himself smiling dumbly at him.

“Okay, you can buy me a soda if you really want to,” he said. “I'm Stan.”

“I'm Butters. Come sit down, and I'll get us some drinks.”

Stan sat down at a little table by himself, and Butters paused. His friends weren't going to mind if he went off with a strange guy, right? If they did, too bad, he was doing it anyway. He didn't really want to bring Stan to sit with his friends.

Butters went to the bar and fetched a couple of sodas. He sat down and Stan took his with a mumbled thanks. Butters tapped his glass awkwardly, looking around. There was nothing to focus on, nothing but the confused stares of his friends. He looked back down at his glass.

“So, Butters,” Stan mumbled, “did you want something?”

Butters wanted a lot. He wanted a conversation, he wanted to potentially be friends, he wanted… the words died on his tongue. He took a sip of his soda - fresh and cold, unlike the flat and lukewarm one he had abandoned with his friends, who were still staring at him.

“I dunno, I…” Butters traced his thumb against the glass, leaving a streak in the condensation. “I liked your music.”

Stan smiled, glancing down. “Thanks. It's my first try. I really thought I was gonna puke on stage.”

Butters chuckled; Stan seemed so human all of a sudden. “Well, you didn't look nervous.”

He didn't tell Stan that he looked like an angel, because that was the sort of thing that would end in him getting punched. Stan took a sip of his drink.

“Where did you get your inspiration?” Butters asked.

Not a good question. Stan grimaced, sucking his breath through his teeth.

“Two of my best friends. I loved one of them, but he didn't love me back. That by itself is fine,” Stan said, his voice cracking in a way that said really was  _ not _ fine, “but did he really have to get with my super best friend?”

Butters frowned. He wanted to reach out and grab his hand, but he didn't want to impose. Stan wiped his eyes with the back of his hand with a quiet sniffle.

“Sorry, allergies.”

Butters didn't have the heart to remind him it was the middle of winter. Instead, he smiled sympathetically, before looking down at his glass.

“I kinda know how you feel,” Butters said. “Nothing that extreme, but I know what it's like to like someone who rejected you, and now you've gotta see them every day.”

Butters cast a glance up to his friends, and Stan followed his gaze. Stan would never know which one Butters meant, but he didn't need to. The crush was a long time ago, when they were all younger. It no longer mattered. Stan frowned.

“I'm sorry.”

“Aw, don't be. Sometimes, you've just gotta move on in life.”

Stan went silent. Butters had a habit of saying something stupid - he could still remember the time he had made fun of Clyde's mom dying when the body wasn't even cold yet. That was a memory thrown into the grimace folder of his mind, something he would have burned if it was physical.

“You're right, and I know you're right, but it's hard,” Stan sighed, lowering his head.

“It doesn't have to be all at once, and it doesn't have to be now, but you'll be a lot happier if you let go.”

Butters needed to stop pushing, because he didn't know why he was pushing. The problems of a stranger were not his own, but he felt himself sucked in by them. Stan held his glass in his hand, swilling the shimmering liquid in thought. He stared down at it like it held the secrets of his love life.

“I know. It's hard to move on, but I've been trying,” Stan said.

“Dwelling on it ain't helping you. Your songs are great, and don't stop playing them, but I dunno, I don't think writing more is gonna help you.”

Stan looked up at him, a flash of recognition hitting his eyes. He smiled widely, a smile Butters couldn't help but mirror even though he didn't know why.

“I have an idea,” he said. “You've really helped me. Thanks, Butters.”

As if on cue, Butters saw Token gesturing for him to come over. His friends were putting their coat on; it must have been time to go home.

“Looks like I've gotta go,” he said with an apologetic smile. “Maybe I'll see you around.”

Stan nodded, and Butters went back to his friends. It was only when he had dropped half of them off that he realised he hadn't gotten Stan's number. Butters was so stupid.

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't have a comment to add on this? Uh
> 
> Come follow me on [Tumblr!](http://vehicroids.tumblr.com)


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